


the void's gravity

by deniigiq



Series: Pigeon and Crow [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Animals, Bad Manners, Confusing etiquette, M/M, Negotiations, Pets, Prom, References to bullying, Secret Identity, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, it's not graphic tho we're good, just fyi the cat eats a bird in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: M87 loved the petstore because being there meant that she got to try out some of the feather toys before they came home in addition to having the chance to fight other cats. And dogs. And lizards. And birds.“I think she’s sick,” Peter told the sales associate. “She bites me and then tries to eat my friends.”The associate had green hair. They blinked like there was a shuttering mechanism in their eyelids.“Who—who are your friends?” they asked.“Pigeons,” Peter said.(Peter tries to resolve an issue with his new kitten, then falls right into another one with Johnny.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & M87, Peter Parker/Johnny Storm
Series: Pigeon and Crow [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993912
Comments: 30
Kudos: 392





	the void's gravity

**Author's Note:**

> References to cat eating a bird and to bullyin, anti-Semitism and homophobia in this one. Please do what you need to to keep yourself safe.

There was rattle and a clank and that was all it took for M87 to engage Torpedo-mode.

May swore. The window shook. It took a good few minutes to drag the cat off the sill, and by then the rattle-r outside had vanished in a bluster of wings.

“She just wants to meet Rosie,” Peter pleaded with May as M87 was removed inauspiciously from her post and chucked in the bathroom for bringing bad manners into the house.

“She wants to eat Rosie, Peter,” May sighed.

“She can’t eat Rosie, she’s not big enough,” Peter argued.

He got a face full of flat lines in return.

“She’s _not_ ,” he said.

“You’re a bad cat,” Peter scolded M87 on the way to the pet store. She yowled and stuck her paw out of her box. The lady sitting next to them on the train made a choked noise into her palm.

“The worst,” Peter emphasized. “We don’t eat birds. Birds are our friends.”

M87 adopted a new tactic called ‘rolling over and being as _noisy_ as feline-ly possible.’ Half of the damn car was looking at them now. Peter set his jaw down at her.

“You’re embarrassing this family,” he snapped. “Get it together, Matey.”

M87 hissed at him through the bars.

M87 loved the petstore because being there meant that she got to try out some of the feather toys before they came home in addition to having the chance to fight other cats. And dogs. And lizards. And birds.

“I think she’s sick,” Peter told the sales associate. “She bites me and then tries to eat my friends.”

The associate had green hair. They blinked like there was a shuttering mechanism in their eyelids.

“Who—who are your friends?” they asked.

“Pigeons,” Peter said.

The lids shuddered down once and then twice.

“Ah. You have pigeons,” the associate said.

“No, they’re not _my_ pigeons,” Peter huffed. “They’re pigeon-pigeons.”

This salesperson was useless to him. All they did was gape.

“Is Asal here?” he asked.

Asal emerged from the dogfood aisle nodded along sagely to Peter’s explanation. She diagnosed the problem as Matey being a dick.

“Well I don’t know how to fix that,” Peter huffed. “She’s gotta be who she’s gotta be, but she’s scaring Rosie.”

“Unforgiveable,” Asal said.

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Peter sighed. “They’ve got to learn how to get along.”

Asal tapped her cheek and then looked long and hard at Matey’s still-yowling paw stretched out, trying to tear the Greenies on the wrack next to them to smithereens.

“Ah,” she said. “I’ve got it.”

“How was the store?”

Mmm.

“Asal says that Matey-Seven can’t have feather toys if she’s gotta be friends with birds.”

There was a pause in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that tracks,” May said.

“She gets mice for now, and crinkle balls,” Peter said. He set Matey on the couch and released her from her pet carrier prison. She was off like a shot.

“Is Rufus like this?” May asked.

Peter watched Matey trip over a shoe and explode into a fuzzy ‘u’ of a cat. She growled and lashed out with a paw.

“Dunno,” he said.

**PP:** send me a video of Arcturus

 **JS: [link]** have your pick

 **PP:** you made him an Instagram?

 **JS:** no

 **PP:** sue made him an Instagram?

 **JS:** he’s got more followers than Ben

 **PP:** that’s anti-Semitic

 **JS:** probably

 **JS:** why do you need video?

 **PP:** cat’s broken. Trying to figure out if its terminal.

 **JS:** explain?

 **PP:** she keeps trying to eat rosie

 **PP:** like

 **PP:** through the window. I don’t think she’s very smart

 **JS:** rosie is not lulu..

 **PP:** no lulu is the one with the gray stripe. Rosie’s got the long beak

 **JS:** okay but like cats hunt birds. that’s what they do.

 **PP:** Rufus hunts no bird in any of these videos

 **JS:** You know how M87 isn’t super sharp?

 **PP:** yeah

 **JS:** Whatever she does have in her head she stole from Rufus. I’m p sure. He thinks everyone’s toes are out to get him.

 **PP:** hm

 **JS:** is Mudhoney like this?

 **PP:** lemme ask.

**SM:** wade I have a question

 **SM:** wade?

 **SM:** wade I have a question

 **SM:** wade?

 **SM:** wade I have a question

 **DP:** Bennothy, darling, I am preoccupied with homicide and disposing of the evidence at the moment. Ask Ness.

 **SM:** kay

**SM:** ness I have a question

 **NC:** sup baby boy?

 **SM:** is Mudhoney smart?

 **NC:** she’s as smart as a cat needs to be.

 **SM:** how smart is that?

 **NC:** she knows how to open the fridge.

 **SM:** omg

 **SM:** she ate their brains.

 **SM:** okay thank you.

 **NC:** wait what

**PP:** bad news johnny

 **PP:** you know how cats eat their babies’ placenta?

 **JS:** no and I didn’t ever need to know that but I guess I do now

 **PP:** She ate their brains through it

 **JS:** 99% sure that it doesn’t work like that

 **PP:** you know 1 cat, what do you know about anything?

 **JS:** yeah but he’s the size of a horse so surely that’s like 2 cats

 **PP:** what do you mean

 **JS:** [image]

 **PP:** …

 **PP:** how is he that big already? Void cat is still only neutron-star sized.

 **JS:** idk every time I turn around he’s even bigger.

Hmm.

Peter decided he’d start with negotiations and then move on to immersion therapy. May told him that the chances of this working were slim, but the internet had no other viable options for him.

M87 didn’t care about the plastic crinkly balls Asal had assigned her. She wanted nothing to do with the fleecy stuffed mice. She wanted to fight Rosie. That was what she wanted out of life, and she wasn’t going to stop until she got it.

Peter could understand this. He too, didn’t like to be told to buzz off. And really, sinking his teeth in with this kind of thing worked out for him more than not. Like, look: he’d gotten Wade _and_ Jess through being clinically unable to fuck off. It was a good skill to have.

He held M87 up to the window by her kitty armpits. Rosie was outside, picking through the planter on the fire-escape.

“Friend,” he murmured into M87’s ears. She squirmed. “No. Friend. _Friend_.”

She kicked at his hands with her hind legs.

“No,” Peter scolded severely.

The wriggling stopped, and big green eyes lifted to his. Matey’s ears flattened.

“Bad manners,” Peter scolded.

M87 hissed. He hissed back. She licked her lips and hissed again. Peter stared at her. And stared at her. Until she started to make a long, low gravelly sound.

This would not do.

“Peter? Are you home? Pete-- _Peter_.”

M87 swiped at him from the edge of the couch. He hissed and swiped back just as he’d done the last two times.

“Peter Benjamin, we have talked about this before and we will talk it to death. Get out from there. Now.”

May didn’t think that M87 would learn empathy if Peter put her in the position that she put everyone else is. She said that cats Matey’s age weren’t capable of empathy, period. If Peter was going to teach her anything, he needed to start with sympathy first. Then he could move onto ‘love,’ ‘anguish’ and ‘betrayal.’

Until she’d cycled through all the stages of grief, M87 wasn’t allowed to see Rosie or Lulu or Frenchie or any of the others. The fire-escape window’s blinds were to be kept down until it was too dark for her to see without kitty heat-vision.

Peter sighed.

It was an unfair compromise, he thought, but he was not the captain of this ship. Or this household for that matter.

“You blew it,” he told Matey when May went to go change into comfy clothes. “You had your chance and you blew it.”

Johnny didn’t understand animals. He did okay with them, but Peter could see his brain’s cogs clicking and spinning when he joined Peter on any of the roosts. He squinted a lot.

Peter stuffed bird seed into Johnny’s hand to help him along. The good news was that the birds couldn’t hear Johnny’s cogs over the rush of traffic down below. They only cared about what was in his hand.

“Where do you go to school, anyways?” Johnny asked him, shielding the cup of seed from Champ and Little League on his shoulder.

“Where do _you_ go to school?” Peter asked.

Johnny scrunched up his nose.

“Midtown Sci and Tech,” he said. “Transferred last year. They’ve got more flexible scheduling and stuff, so it’s not a huge thing if I miss class like the last place. Those old folks called truancy officers on me—like, can you believe it? Everyone always knows where I am. I don’t skip school ‘cause it’s fun.”

Peter felt his stomach cringe.

MST was where May kept threatening to send him if Tall Evan didn’t lay off on his bullshit. Every day the pink transfer paperwork seemed to crawl closer and closer to Principal Freighter’s desk.

Disgusting.

Peter would leave Forest Hills over his dead body and that was that.

“Now you,” Johnny said. “Where do you go?”

“FHHS,” he said.

“Never heard of it.”

Good.

“Is it good?”

That’s a negative, ghostrider.

“Why don’t you transfer then?”

Because Peter had a bone to pick with Tall-fucking-Evan, that was why. He was just biding his time; waiting to see where the colossal moron’s giant, boat-sized foot would land next.

“Do you like MST?” Peter asked.

Johnny hummed.

“Sort of,” he said. “I’m not there super often. It definitely more interesting than the last place. There’s more going on in class, you know?”

Peter frowned.

“Whaddya mean ‘more?’” he asked. “Class is class. You go. You sit. You suffer. You leave.”

Johnny gave Champ a sunflower seed to distract him while he tossed a shower of smaller seeds out over the cluster of pigeons on the other side of Peter’s knees. Some of the seed rained down on Peter’s pants.

“No, there’s like, more activities and stuff. Group projects. Research papers. That kind of thing,” Johnny said. “It’s not only sitting and tests.”

Peter didn’t mean to sneer, but Johnny caught him at it and laughed.

“You’re so old-fashioned,” he said. “That kind of thing is good for people.”

“ _Why_?” Peter demanded.

“Why not?”

“Is this a rich kid thing?”

Johnny laughed again.

“What’re you askin’ about school for?” Peter nudged him.

“Just askin’.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

Johnny shrugged.

“I was just curious,” he claimed. “I don’t know anything about what you do outside Spiderman and M87. That’s all.”

Suspicious. Suspicious as hell.

“That’s it, then, you know my whole life,” Peter said. “Those are the most interesting parts of me.”

Johnny side-eyed him. Peter shoved him and got knocked over in return.

“That’s not true,” Johnny puffed when Peter yanked himself back up and got ready to knock the guy’s socks off. “You go to school. You have friends—don’t you?”

Oh.

Peter got it now. Johnny was conducting surveillance. Yeah, okay, that made more sense.

“I mean, my main contacts are DP and DD, you already know that,” he told him. “But there’s also Jones, Cage, and Fisty. They’d vouch for me if I needed it.”

Johnny stared.

“Your friends are all old people?” he asked.

Oh.

“You meant like, friends-friends,” Peter said.

“Yeah, man. What else did you—what the hell do I want DD’s name and number for?”

Well, Red was sort of funny, if you had any kind of clue what his inside jokes were about. _He_ found them all funny, which was, in itself, pretty entertaining.

“I dunno, you asked for friends, I gave you friends,” Peter hummed.

“Those aren’t friends,” Johnny said. “That’s like family.”

The words caught Peter off-guard.

He’d never thought about his people like that, but they kind of, sort of were now that he had a moment to picture them all in the same frame together.

“I meant like _friends_ ,” Johnny said. “You know, people you text who aren’t me.”

“May.”

“People who text who aren’t me and your _mom_ , Peter.”

Damn, this one was getting fast on the uptake. Okay, fine.

“I—”

“From _school_ , Peter.”

Hhhhh. Clever bastard.

“I’ve got friends,” he sniffed.

“Oh yeah? Name ‘em.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You first.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I asked you first.”

“Well, I’m asking you first.”

Johnny pouted.

“You always do this,” he huffed. “Can’t you just give me a straight answer?”

“No, if I do, I’ll die immediately,” Peter said.

Johnny glared at him and looked sharply away to the left. Peter felt a little bad. He fidgeted with the seam of his shirt. He didn’t want to be difficult. It always just happened that way.

He sighed.

“MJ,” he said.

Johnny lit up and turned back towards hims. He wriggled in closer so that his and Peter’s knees were knocking into each other again.

“MJ,” he said.

“Flash,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“MJ and Flash. Cool names. Anyone else?”

Mmm. No. Not really.

“You only get the two,” Peter said. “Be happy.”

Johnny beamed at him.

“I’m so happy,” he said. “What’re they like?”

Pft. Stupid pretty and angry, the both of them.

“They’re assholes like me but taller,” Peter said. “Your turn. Friends. Name ‘em.”

Johnny’s grin widened.

“None,” he said brightly.

Peter felt like someone had caught his foot in a jumprope on uneven sidewalk.

“None?” he said.

“Not the one! I mean—I know a lot of people, like, a lot-a lot. But like, I dunno. I wouldn’t call ‘em friends. Maybe acquaintances. People I know. Not to worry, though, I’m working on it.”

Peter wanted to slap this blue-eyed freak. Everyone had to have some kind of friend. Hell, even if that friend was an angry cat named after a black hole or a salesperson at the local petstore or the guys at the scrapyard who corrected Peter’s accent into something they called ‘more fittin’ of someone of your status.’

They meant that he didn’t drawl enough for them. He liked it. May told him to talk proper as soon as he got home, but he still liked it.

Surely Johnny had those folks in his life, no?

“Don’t you go places?” Peter blurted out.

Johnny seemed a little startled and confused by the question.

“You know? Out? Places? Not in the house? Don’t you leave the house?” Peter expounded for him.

“Yeah? Obviously?” Johnny said.

He wasn’t getting it still. Peter shooed Pearl and Anchor away from his legs so that he could arrange himself facing Johnny.

“When you leave the house, you go places, is what I’m sayin’,” he said. “And then when you get to those places, there’re people there, right? Don’t you talk to the people?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said.

“And they talk back to you,” Peter said. “And you talk back to them, and on and on and on. You do this, do you not?”

Johnny cocked his head, then exploded into excitement.

“YES! Yes. Once—I did this once. There was—there’s a hardware store. The old man behind the counter calls me ‘Tiny.’”

Atta boy. Peter knew there had to be something.

“Okay, so you don’t have no friends then,” he said. “You’ve got Mr. Hardware Store.”

Aaaaaaand they were right back to square one. Sir, what’s the matter with your face?

“That’s not a friend,” Johnny said. “That’s an acquaintance.”

FALSE.

Whatever. Peter was done arguing this. He and Asal were friends. He didn’t care what Jonathan Storm thought about it.

M87 was hunting a moth when Peter got home. He caught her in the act and she didn’t even have the decency to stop.

He decided to hunt her.

She didn’t like that at all. She made some really terrible noises at him and even managed to get some scratches in before she went barreling into the darkness under his bed.

Peter stood by the couch in shock.

He’d never gotten that reaction from a cat before.

May told him that he was fine and the Matey was an aggravating little shit in her tweens. She was determined to be moody and annoying and to make her attitude everyone else’s problem. May said to just ignore her until she was ready to return to behavior fit for human cohabitation.

It was hard, though, because something possessed her at 3am to try to liberate Peter’s face skin from his face bone.

It was the last straw.

He dropped her in the bathtub and told her he wasn’t doing this. He closed the bathroom door and left her to yowl in self-pity. She had food and water in there. She’d be fine.

In the morning, May noted the scabs around his eye and said that they were going to get through this. Peter hoped so. But he had a plan to help this along.

“You said you’re Catholic,” Peter said.

Red’s thick eyebrows bent into paratheses over his glasses. They were red. Dark red. Dark enough to hide the scars and milkiness behind them. He had a scratch on his chin.

“I’m Catholic, not a priest,” Red said. “What you need is a priest.”

No, what Peter needed was a second opinion, and he didn’t appreciate Red out here pretending that he’d never been possessed.

“You’re a devil,” Peter said.

“Uh? No, no. I’m a guy,” Red said. “Still just a guy.”

“You’re not.”

Red huffed a laugh.

“What do you want me to do, Spidey? Hold your cat and channel the power of the Lord? Ain’t gonna work, kid. I’m a sinner at the best of times and walking blasphemy the rest of the week.”

Boo on you, Red. Be more helpful.

“Listen, if you’re that torn up about this, I can take you to my priest. But kid, I dunno how this is gonna work out for you.”

It didn’t matter. M87 was his responsibility now and Peter had an obligation to do everything he could to ensure her health and future happiness.

Red sighed and rubbed at his lower back. He asked if they had to take the train.

This was outrageous.

“She seems fine to me,” Red said, holding M87 up to eyelevel, apparently unafraid of any further corneal damage.

Matey patted lightly at his face and purred. She wriggled and he loosened his grip. She caught onto his shoulder and climbed up to bridge herself behind his head.

“She can smell a fellow devil,” Peter told him bitterly.

“So it would seem,” Red said, offering her a finger. “Hello, Matey.”

Matey _licked it_. The harlot. Peter couldn’t believe this.

“I’ve heard you’ve been bad,” Red said to M87’s bowed ears.

Matey meowed and rubbed her cheek against Red’s stubble. Red scratched under her collar.

“Take me to the birds,” he said.

Peter was horrified.

Red handed the wriggling body of the creature he’d just snatched out of the air to M87, and she looked up at him like she’d just met the messiah and soon enough it was all over for everyone.

Peter need to sit down.

“You,” Red told Matey as she presented him with the body, “Are very small. Too small for crows. Start with these first.”

Hhhhhh.

“Atta girl.”

HHHHHHNG.

“Spidey, cats are carnivores. They eat vermin. That’s what they do. If you can’t cope with it, then maybe you shouldn’t—”

If he dared to finish that sentence, Peter would murder him on this rooftop and prove to everyone that a bird in the hand, was in fact, worthy of a death sentence.

“Is she happier?”

Well, she certainly wasn’t any more _hungry_ , DD.

“There you go then. Feed her something she has to work for every once and a while.”

“BURY IT. Take it from her, _now_.”

“ _Jesus_ , Kid. I’m right—”

“BURY. IT. Say Christian things to it. It looks like a Christian bird. Do it. NOW.”

“Alright, alright. Christ, calm—”

“NOW.”

“I don’t know how—”

Peter was going to have a meltdown. Right here, right now, he wasn’t afraid.

“Okay, okay, okay. Come on. I—for the love of God. Let’s go.”

“I—”

“Father,” Red said with the remains of bird in hand, “ _Please_.”

“Please?” Peter asked from his elbow. “The rabbi’s in a meeting until six.”

This priest was bald and unbelievably tall. He looked like beansprout in a cassock. Peter resisted the urge to steal his white collar thing. There was a bird’s soul at stake.

“I?” the priest said, looking at Red even though he didn’t try to look back at him.

“Please?” Peter pleaded.

“We might be having some very strong feelings about this,” Red told the priest pointedly. “And we _might_ be about to scream about them in a very public and explosive fashion.”

Peter jerked his face from him back to the tall priest. He tried to find the old man’s soul in his eyes. The priest gazed down upon him for a long time before shrugging helplessly.

The bird was laid to rest. The cat was locked in her bathroom. Peter was done with the world at large.

“You know,” May said, “She’s not crying, though.”

That was because she’d eaten half of a helpless creature, May. This was horrible. Peter was never talking to Red again.

“Baby, you’re the one who asked DD for help. And he has, whether you like it or not, provided that very thing. It’s remarkably on brand for the devil, actually.”

Horrible.

Peter carried on rubbing the hem of his jeans between his fingers.

“Why don’t we do this?” May said in the tone that she took with patients that she wanted to stab, and not with a needle, “Clearly Matey-seven needs more stimulation. Why don’t we try—hear me out—walking her? So she can see the birds. Maybe even do a little chase of the birds. You know, just enough so that she thinks she’s an apex predator. Then we bring her home and give her a piece of fish or something? Is fish a more acceptable sacrifice?”

HHHHHHH.

Maybe.

May ruffled his hair.

**PP:** Johnny my demon cat now requires weekly sacrifices.

 **JS:** oh nice. Ours just tried to drink acid. Reed had to decontaminate him. He might be mutated now.

 **PP:** trade

 **JS:** no

 **PP:** TRADE

 **JS:** no

 **PP:** 😢

 **JS:** don’t cry

 **PP:** I’m weeping on this floor and you HATE ME

 **JS:** [Read 4:18]

 **PP:** I hate you

 **JS:** 💋

 **JS:** hey question

 **PP:** hey emotional distress

 **JS:** you’re a sophomore right?

 **PP:** in spirit or on paper?

 **JS:** paper

 **PP:** am sophomore yes confirm

 **JS:** okay so maybe you don’t know but like. Does your school do prom?

 **PP:** …why wouldn’t I know?

 **JS:** idk some folks don’t know about it until they’re invited or whatever

 **PP:** johnny

 **JS:** and you know like I’m a junior and so we’re gonna have prom in a bit

 **PP:** Oh.

 **JS:** is that something you’d be into?

 **PP:** is it something you care about?

 **JS:** is that a no?

 **PP:** I

 **PP:** sorry

 **JS:** oh

 **JS:** why not? If that’s okay? If you want to tell me

 **PP:** wouldn’t it be better if you took a girl?

 **JS:** I don’t care about that

 **PP:** are you sure?

 **JS:** yes? I mean, I’ve had boyfriends before its nothing people don’t know about?

 **JS:** oh

 **JS:** are you out?

 **PP:** out to who

 **JS:** that’s the question babe

 **PP:** no one’s ever asked so I guess not?

 **JS:** no one’s ever asked you??? No one???

 **PP:** no. Why would they?

 **JS:** UH. BECAUSE??? Like how did you get someone to like if you if you don’t tell them you like them?

 **PP:** what

 **JS:** have you never written a love letter? Or like, talked to someone you liked alone?

 **PP:** I?

 **PP:** I’ve?

 **PP:** never liked anyone

 **JS:** are you serious?

 **PP:** I guess?

 **PP:** Idk I just never thought about it. I had other stuff going on.

 **JS:** right obvs. But like, before all that.

 **PP:** Johnny I talk to birds and have 1.5 sets of dead parents. You tell me. When was ‘before all that?’

 **JS:** Ffffffff

 **JS:** okay fair so you’re not out. Do you not want to be out?

 **JS:** I mean I guess that’s fine although I don’t really know how to be out with someone without making them out with me.

 **PP:** you take a girl.

 **JS:** yeah but I don’t want to take a girl, I want to take you.

 **PP:** So you take a girl anyways. Or a guy. Idc. Someone else.

 **JS:** you don’t want to go?

 **PP:** it’s not that I don’t want to go it’s just that, you know

 **JS:** you don’t want to go with me?

 **PP:** no it’s not that either it’s like

 **PP:** its something else, okay?

Fuck. This was going south faster than a plane to Brazil.

What were words?

How did they work?

Where was that cat?

**PP:** it’s not you. It’s like this

 **PP:** everything you do ends up on the news, right? Your prom outfit is for sure going to be on E and in the tabloids and on like 8000 diff fashion magazines, right?

 **PP:** and A) there is no way I can match you. B) they always take pictures at these kinds of things and C) if people at my school find out that I know you, it’s going be.

Hell.

**PP:** hard.

Tall Evan’s sneer would turn into a smirk and he would color in the star he’d drawn on Peter’s locker with a pink marker next.

It would be…bad. Worse. Than it already was.

May would notice. And if May noticed, then the transfer papers would for sure find their way home, and if they did that, then MJ and Flash would be the next targets. They were already targets, but without Peter spitting insults at Tall Evan’s back and earning tobacco-mint breath right in his eyes and ears, inches from his lips, them being ‘targets’ would turn into them being ‘victims.’

Tall Evan had already done enough to Flash. MJ’s mascara had run down her face last month from her screaming herself hoarse over him in the admin office.

Peter—

Peter couldn’t let that happen again. MJ and Flash didn’t understand the kind of person they were up against.

**PP:** I’m sorry Johnny. Take someone else. One of your acquaintances. You’d have a better time with them anyways.

 **JS:** I don’t know what to say

 **JS:** I guess that makes sense but I really wanted to go with you. I guess I’m sorry that I embarrass you or something.

 **PP:** you don’t embarrass me.

 **JS:** you don’t have to say that.

How to fix this? How to fix this? How to _fix this_?

**PP:** HHHHHHHH what if

 **PP:** what if I met you there?

 **JS:** what?

 **PP:** maybe I can’t go with you. But I can be there with you.

 **JS:** ?? Peter help. Brain confuse

 **PP:** I told you I work, right?

 **JS:** yeah?

 **PP:** hhhhh okay like. Don’t make this weird.

 **JS:** I AM GOING TO MAKE THIS WEIRD

 **JS:** go on

 **PP:** don’t make it weird.

 **PP:** what do you think I do?

 **JS:** uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh mechanic?

 **PP:** no

 **JS:** filing stuff?

 **PP:** no

 **JS:** UUUUUUUUUUUH lab? Tech?

 **PP:** wow you’re terrible at this. I’m a photographer.

 **JS:** wait what

 **PP:** yeah

 **JS:** that’s uh?

 **PP:** I do events. Street stuff. Sometimes people hire me for senior pictures or whatever. I’m a freelancer with The Bugle most of the time.

 **JS:** I

 **JS:** if you’d given me 9000 guesses I might have gotten that one on try 8987.

 **PP:** funny. Anyways. What if I volunteer to do prom pictures at MST? I’m sure they’ll have a team or something. My teacher’s ex is the art teacher there. I could ask her to ask her if that would be okay? That way I can still be there.

 **JS:** that sounds like a lot of work

 **PP:** Listen to what I’m offering you, Birthday cake.

 **JS:** No, I mean. I appreciate it, but it’s just like

 **PP:** Johnny if someone at my school thinks we’re together then there’s this…guy. And he’s going to make me have to transfer because if he says one more thing to me, I’m going to jail and then my friends will have to suffer his stupid broken face in my absence, okay? Not to mention that the second I step out with you with all those cameras, people, like, Dr. Doom types of people are going to target me and we both know that other people will be collateral damage there. We know that. It’s not anything to do with you. I’m just. I’m trying to protect my people. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

No response. Ughhhhhh.

M87 meowed as Peter rolled onto his back and took her with him. Her bloodlust appeared to have been replaced with something—relaxation? Liquid bones? It didn’t matter.

“Why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” he sang to her softly, but mostly to himself.

She pawed at his eye. He closed it.

Maybe Red had the right idea about this kind of thing. It wasn’t about breeding the bloodlust out. It was about leaning in a little. Just a little.

He reached out blindly for his phone.

**PP:** alternate option: I go with you as Spiderman

 **JS:** AJSDFA:SDFASDFASDFAd

 **JS:** NO

 **JS:** That’d be so much WORSE omg we’d end up fighting half the city in bowties

 **PP:** I mean???? You’re saying ‘worse’ but I’m hearing ‘best???’

 **JS:** no NO

 **JS:** no

 **JS:** I think your way makes more sense. I think I’m just a little sad. Because like, it’s not just prom is it?

This smile wasn’t meant to last.

**JS:** how are we supposed to be together if we can’t be seen together?

That was the question of the century, bub, and one of many, MANY reasons why Wade had warned Peter against all of this from the very start.

**PP:** I don’t know

 **JS:** man

 **PP:** maybe someone else knows?

 **JS:** maybe.

Mmmm. Okay that was enough of that.

**PP:** lets burn that bridge when we get to it.

 **JS:** yeah okay

 **JS:** wait

 **JS:** burn?

 **PP:** yeah burn the bridge when you get to it.

 **JS:** AJD:FASDFSADFSDF Peter. Have I got news you’re gonna hate.

 **PP:** ??

IT WASN’T BURN??


End file.
